


First Impressions

by Sarcastic_Cupcake



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Cancer, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 09:36:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4258434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcastic_Cupcake/pseuds/Sarcastic_Cupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friendships are such delicate, slippery things. Especially broken ones. But what happens if you want to rekindle a flame that has long since burned out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Impressions

The first thing that strikes me as she opens the door is how frail she looks. Before, she would have been full of vitality, her red hair down around her shoulders. Now, she is tired and stooped, and what little hair she has left is pale, tied behind a bandanna. A lump catches in my throat.

The second thing that hits me is the familiarity of the house. It looks like they haven't remodeled a bit since I last visited, even though that was over two years ago. The floor is wood (I remember how we would make a game of sliding on the slippery flooring, racing around the house). The little resting area to the left of the doorway is still carpeted with pale white, covered by a solid wood table (we left birthday gifts there one year, and I remember how tall the pile was; or maybe I was just shorter?). Behind that, a door opens into the computer room (we never really played computer games, we had better things to do with our time ).

As she ushers us to the kitchen, I look around more. We pass a staircase that leads up to the bedrooms (Russ' room is up there; I wonder if he still has the bookshelf full of Warriors books, or did he remodel?), then one that leads down (that's where the TV and gaming equipment is; do they still have the small, impossibly cramped room full of games we played?).

* * *

The kitchen is just how I remember it. The fridge is paneled in wood to match the rest of the cabinets. The small island in the middle is marble, polished to a raven sheen. A cabinet full of fancy china lies against the wall. Underneath it are three jars of varying size (are they still full of rock candy?) She leans against the waist-high countertop, as if just standing is a great effort.

Over to the left is the other TV (he introduced me to Spongebob, and I can't help wonder what he watches now), facing the darkened brown couch. The many sliding glass doors let in light, while the gauzy curtains give the room an airy feel (I love everything about how this house was built, and I know he does too; he always wanted to be an architect). Outside, the porch is mostly empty, save for a few potted plants (his mom took a picture from his birthday party there; I still have it somewhere, don't I?)

"...the tests they ran. Now we have a system where I just go for chemotherapy bi-weekly. Those days are terrible."

"I know it must be hard for you to take care of things right now, so if you need any help, I'll be there, okay?"

"It's only the days after chemo that are really bad. Everything hurts. At first, it was just my head, but now it's down to my knees. The treatment is cumulative, and it just gets worse."

My mom makes comforting noises. My eyes tear up at the raw pain in her voice.

"It feels like just one big bruise, but it only hurts my skin. It's like a really bad sunburn, only it doesn't go away, and it gets so bad it hurts to just touch yourself." Her voice softens.

My heart goes out to her. It isn't right, she shouldn't have to deal with this.

* * *

My eyes are drawn to the counter next to the swiveling chairs, where I see a rover assembled. My curiosity piqued, I draw closer, reading the label on the box. It's a build-your-own RC rover, and I smile in recognition (he always did like to build things, I got him a Snap Kit for his birthday one year and he loved it). Is he even home, though? Why wouldn't he be?

"...Russ is a typical teenage boy now; he's started sleeping in late. He was up having a shower right before you guys came. I'll check on him and see if I can get him to come down." (he is home; maybe I'll get to see him and say hi?)

She comes back down the stairs. "No luck; he's still in the shower."

My mom smiles (darn, I wanted to see him, but I guess the feeling's not mutual), saying "It's fine, you don't have to trouble yourself. I know he's at that age where being friends with a girl is awkward. And he probably has a lot on his mind, you know?" (it wasn't awkward when he was friends with me and Anne and we didn't care what other people thought, was it?)

"Yeah. For his last birthday party, he only invited his boy friends. It's just that age, isn't it." (we promised we'd always stay friends, even if other people thought we were dating, didn't we?)

I hate the fact that we're only here because his mom has cancer. I miss his friendship, and I want to be here to hang out, not because of this. She's a nice woman, they're a nice family. She - they never deserved any of this. I am filled with helplessness, because there is nothing I can do to help.

* * *

We have to leave a few minutes later (should I ask her to say hi to Russ for me?). As I'm about to open my mouth, my mom blurts out "Say hi to the rest of the family for us!"

There goes that idea. As I walk out the door, I can't help but look back, memorizing her face through my heartache. I can't stop the thought that maybe, this might be the last time I see her.


End file.
